


Gifts Given and Recieved

by Iridogorgia



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Smut, light Violence, molliarty - Freeform, molly is a queen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-01
Updated: 2018-10-01
Packaged: 2019-07-23 05:03:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16152161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iridogorgia/pseuds/Iridogorgia
Summary: Sherlock ruined Molly's Christmas gift and Jim is determined to make her holiday better.Gift for ribcage!





	Gifts Given and Recieved

**Author's Note:**

> Set between the time when Molly leaves the Christmas party in s02e01. AU in that she's in a secret relationship with Moriarty.

Molly stared at her feet as she opened her flat from memory, toeing off her heels as she walked through the door.

She heard a rustle of fabric and blinked back her tears. Right. Jim _would_ be here.

Fine Gucci leather lace ups stepped into her line of vision as Jim Moriarty invaded her personal space. He’d been waiting for her, of course he had.

“I saw what happened,” he murmured, and of course he would have cameras in Sherlock’s flat, _of course._

His hands were in his pockets, body angled toward her as he studied her. She gave a short nod and bit back a sob, rubbing quickly at the corner of one eye.

“You, uh, you said he’d never appreciate me.” A soft hitch in her breath while she tried to control herself.

“You had to try anyway, Molly-mine, I understand.” His hand slipped out of his pocket, resting against the wall right next to her head. “I don’t mind, truly I don’t. After all, your body belongs to me,” one finger ghosted along the collar of her thick winter jacket and she couldn’t help the shiver that went down her spine, “but you heart belongs to Sherlock Holmes.” There was such a sad, heavy feeling in her chest.

The things he’d _said…_

Jim chuckled and leaned his face closer to hers, “It’s just such a shame you’re not nearly broken enough for him to find you interesting.” And then he kissed the corner of her mouth, so softly. Drawing back, his face turned stoic and serious, dark brows framing darker eyes, and he seemed to scan her expression. What he found there, she couldn’t say, but she looked away first. “But it is Christmas, my darling, so let me get you your present.”

She tilted her head up automatically at his tone, her body used to the signals that sex was going to happen soon and when his voice went that deep and dangerous that was the sign the seduction was beginning. Her eyes drifted shut as she waited for him to kiss her, and instead sputtered when the chemical taste of a makeup remover wipe touched her tongue. Her eyes flew open, but Jim was determined to get the lipstick off of her, his eyes fixed to her mouth. He held her chin tightly with two fingers as he worked, scrubbing at her thin lips. He had a little frown on his face, a furrow between his brows.

Molly’s eyes flew around the apartment, wondering what in the world was going on, when he tossed the wipe over his shoulder and whispered, “There, that’s better,” before leaning in and soundly kissing her. She went pliant under him, furling open like a flower. He snuck his tongue into her mouth, hands going to her head to take out her silly bow and toss it somewhere behind him, shaking out her carefully arranged hairstyle until her hair hung long and loose around her shoulders.

He pulled back, smirking, as his nimble fingers removed her cheap glitter earrings and dropped them straight into the little waste bin she kept by the door. He unbuttoned her coat, undid the belt, and dropped it to the floor behind her. He pulled a dark jewelry box from his pocket and Molly’s eyes widened.

“Happy Christmas, Molly Hooper,” he said softly, opening the box for her.

Embossed on the satin lining of the top of the box was the name ‘Mikimoto’, which meant very little to Molly Hooper, but nestled inside of the pale lining was a pair of the most lustrous pearl studs she had ever seen. They were a luminous white, perfectly round, and Jim plucked them out of the box, dropping it neatly back into his pocket as he slipped the studs into her ears for her.

They were large, and heavy, and Molly suddenly got the sense that they cost more than her annual rent. She blushed and reached up one hand to delicate feel the smooth calcium carbonate.

“Thank you, Jim, they’re beautiful.” She could hardly meet his eyes, but she felt his gaze on the small, happy smile on her lips.

He gave her a genuine smile, “They reminded me of you. But that’s not all, Miss Molls.” He reached out and with a sharp tug on each side, ripped the seaming that kept the silver straps of her dress up. She gasped and raised her hands to her shoulders automatically, but with one long motion, he pulled the sheathe dress over her head. He absently dropped it on top of the waste bin, studying her undergarments.

“My, my, my. Were you expecting me this evening, or were you hoping to seduce Sherlock Holmes? Either way, I’m _very_ pleased.” He took in her black lace knickers, matching bra, and thigh high stockings. She didn’t move to cover herself, Jim liked to look at her, but she did move one arm across her stomach to clasp the opposite elbow. His eyes traced her freckles and he touched the tip of his tongue to his upper lip. “Sherlock said your breasts were too small, did he?”

She gave a single sharp nod and looked away.

Jim reached around her and unclasped her bra, tossing it over his shoulder. He studied her, one fingering hovering millimeters over her skin. “I must confess, I’m so glad he thinks so.” She gave him a hurt look, moving to cover her chest, and Jim caught her wrists before she could. He purred, “I’m so glad that he can’t recognize something so beautiful when it’s pining right in front of him. I love to have one up on the cheeky brilliant bastard.” Hands still on her wrists, he leaned down to take each of her breasts into his mouth in turn. She gasped and flushed as he bit each nipple just hard enough to sting, soothing the pain with his tongue afterwards. He teased her, holding her wrists as she angled her hips toward him.

He popped off of her with a wet ‘smack’, licking the corner of his mouth as he came up. Her nipples were hard and distended, stripes of red on her pale flesh from where he’d scraped his teeth over her sensitive tissue. Molly’s eyes were dark and heavy, her breathing uneven.

He smiled. “Another gift, my dear.” He stepped neatly to the side, revealing a black bag with white tissue paper artfully splayed out of the top. The white ‘Chanel’ printed across the front made Molly do a double take and whip her head around to stare at Jim.

“This is…Jim, this is too much.” He generally didn’t buy her trinkets, his idea of a ‘present’ in the past had been a hard fuck in the back of a car or in her shower, the ripping orgasms the heart of each ‘gift’.

He shrugged gracefully. “It’s Christmas.”

He nudged her forward with a hand on her shoulder, and she took a hesitant step toward the bag. Knowing what she knew about Jim Moriarty versus Jim from IT, it could just as easily be a bomb or intact human heart as couture in that bag. Parting the tissue with two fingers, she gasped and eagerly plunged her hands inside, pulling out a beautiful evening gown, the same deep black as his suit. She held it up against her and he gave a smile that was full of teeth.

“Put it on, love.”

She did, stepping into the smooth silk, pulling it up to her shoulders. Playfully, she fluttered her lashes at Jim, “Zip me up?” Turning to expose the creamy expanse of her back.

He gave a wolfish grin and growled, “My pleasure,” stepping behind her to slowly pull the tab up her back, the fabric smoothing out and hugging her frame, the fit perfect.

She gave a little twirl, her stockinged feet giving her a smoother twirl than normal, more graceful. The skirt was full and knee length, puffing out ever so slightly from the flat black band at her waist. The top was split right down the middle, almost to her navel, and plastered itself to her chest like it was made for her. It had long sleeves that hugged her slim arms, making the flesh of her exposed torso almost glow in contrast. Jim looked at her hungrily, stepping closer to smooth one hand down the front of her.

“You’re beautiful, Molly Hooper.” He breathed it right before he kissed her again, his hands twining through her hair to slip it up into a simple French twist, securing it with a pin he pulled from his pocket.

As he pulled back, he chuckled as she leaned forward, eyes still heavy lidded, pressing one finger to her lips. She pursed them in a small kiss and he smiled. “We have reservations, I’m afraid. Sebastian should be waiting outside. Shall we go?”

“Reservations? Jim, who could be open this late on Christmas?” He gave her a look and she rolled her eyes, “Oh, that’s right. You’re Jim Moriarty. Anything is open for you if you want it to be.” He rewarded her with a smile and a kiss to the temple.

“Just so, darling girl. Ah, we can’t have you wearing _those_ ,” as she tried to put her original cheap black pumps back on. He pulled a pair of black leather Gucci heels from behind the entryway. A perfect match to his lace ups. “These will go much better. Here, let me help.” He dropped to one knee, taking her delicate foot and running his hand over her arch, ignoring her giggles, and sliding the shoe on. His hand continued up her leg, and her giggles turned to moans as he slipped his hand under her dress. He rubbed her once, twice, and then pulled away. He quickly helped her into the second shoe and then stood. “Reservations, love.”

She nodded, her face flushed and eyes only for him.

True to his word, Sebastian was waiting in the black town car out front of her building. Jim removed his blazer, revealing white shirtsleeves, draping it possessively around Molly’s shoulders as he escorted her to the car. Sebastian unfolded himself from the front seat and opened the door for the both of them.

Molly sent him a warm smile, “Happy Christmas, Seb.”

He nodded back at her, “And to you, Miss Molly. Lovely outfit.” She giggled lightly while Jim grumbled behind them.

“Watch your eyes, Sebby.” Jim gave his cheek a heavy pat before following Molly into the backseat.

Sebastian rolled his eyes and shut the door behind his boss a touch harder than was necessary.

As soon as they were in the car, Jim pounced on Molly, pulling her into his lap and ravaging her mouth. He sat in the middle of the bench, his legs spread, and she quickly scrambled to straddle him. He broke away from her to kiss and bite at the long expanse of her neck, “You should wear your hair up more,” he bit out between kisses and long suckles. She sighed in agreement and shrugged the blazer off.

His hands immediately went under her dress, two fingers finding their way around her panties and sunk into her, up to the second knuckle. She moaned loudly, panting, and started to roll her hips. “That’s…Jim, God, that’s so good…”. His dark, heavy eyes trained to her face, his hand on her back, a firm pressure, while the other worked her closer to orgasm, and she was so close, right on the precipice, and then…

“We’re here, boss.” Sebastian. Had the car stopped moving? She tried to break through the haze of lust and pleasure. Jim pulled his fingers out of her slowly, pressing slightly on her swollen nub one more time as he went, making her whimper. Staring at her, he sucked on both fingers and winked at her. She moaned and her eyes fluttered shut. Her hips rolled and he reached down to hold her still.

“Not yet, darling, save that for me. For later.”

Sebastian opened the door, held out a hand, and helped Molly slide off of Jim’s lap on shaky legs. Jim himself just smiled and followed, snatching his blazed from the floor. He shook it out and draped it delicately across her shoulders, holding out his arm for her to clutch to. He bore her weight without a dip in stride.

Not for the first time, Molly couldn’t believe that the sweet Jim from IT who had awkwardly asked her out for coffee and fumbled for her hand had turned into this graceful creature. Molly wasn’t stupid, and when she’d asked him questions about the variety of scars on his torso (she knew what types of violence left what patterns, thank you, and no shut-in from IT would have scars like THAT), he’d paused, considered her and her complete lack of accusation in her tone, and then told her. “Well, Molly, I moonlight as the head of a criminal empire. IT is my true passion, though, especially since it brought me to you.” She had laughed and smiled and _believed him._ Because Molly Hooper was Molly Hooper, she liked what she liked with absolutely no apology to anyone. Sparkly pink butterfly hair clips and dangerous criminal mastermind psychopaths combined.

She still felt a deep stirring in her heart (and loins) for Sherlock, and Jim gave her practical advice on how to woo the handsome consulting detective. He also gently warned her when Sherlock would probably hurt (crush) her tender feelings.

What an incredibly odd relationship by today’s standards.

He lead her into the dimly lit restaurant, which was packed full, past the line of finely dressed people waiting for a table. 

“It would figure someone with a _whore_ would get in before a pair of _doctors_ ,” muttered someone in line. “Wonder if he’s going to pass her around to the staff?” The person’s partner giggled.

Jim stopped. Molly’s face was bright red and turned down. She pulled the blazer tighter, trying to cover the beautiful expanse of skin exposed by the dress. Jim looked at her and then snapped his fingers at Sebastian. There was a hard _crack_ and then a thump and a few gasps and screams. Jim turned them both around to survey the damage.

The male of the group was laying out flat, his nose completely broken and streaming blood. His partner, a pale haired woman in an expensive peacoat, was kneeling by his side, hands trembling.

Molly didn’t look happy, but she didn’t look angry. She stared impassively at the scene before her when Sebastian came up and shadowed them. She shot him a look. He shrugged, “Nobody says that sort of thing about _Doctor_ Hooper.”

Ever since Molly had baked a cake for his birthday and sung him the song terribly off key, Sebastian had been weirdly protective of his boss’s girlfriend. He itched to punch every idiot in the face who insulted her, especially Sherlock Holmes. The fact that Jim had shortened his leash enough to let him punch that guy was a Christmas miracle. It was also probably his Christmas bonus.

Jim glared at the member of staff who came out to talk to them, and before Molly knew it, they were being ushered inside to the best table in the house, champagne complimentary to apologize for the uncouth fool outside who would NOT be patronizing the restaurant while the lovely couple was there, to be sure. Was the good doctor and her date alright? Did they want the police called? No? Then be sure to enjoy your meal, on the house.

Molly was reluctant to part with Jim’s blazer at the table, but the look on his face booked no argument. She’d meekly handed it back to Jim, who subtly sniffed the collar when he slid it back on and smiled. He winked at her, “Smells like you, my own.”

She sipped her crystal flute of champagne nervously. He propped one elbow on the table, leaning his chin against his palm. “Want to get something off your chest, Molly?”

“Why do you like me?” She blurted out, mortified. What a juvenile question, how embarrassing.

But Jim, like always, didn’t seem perturbed. He simply hummed and spread his napkin neatly in his lap while considering her.

The waiter came with their appetizer, a single seared scallop with micro greens and a pale, creamy sauce. Molly shot a look at Jim, “But we didn’t order yet.”

He gave her an indulgent smile, “This isn’t the kind of place with menus, love.” He sliced off a piece of scallop and popped it in his mouth.

Molly took his lead and almost melted at the taste. Incredibly delicious. She took another sip of champagne.

He laced his fingers and set his jaw on them. “I have a counter question. Why didn’t you go to the police after I told you who I was?” His eyes pierced through her.

She almost inhaled her micro greens in surprise. He’d never asked her about how she felt about his real job before. Jim from IT was a front for something, she knew that, and she had a feeling it had to do with Sherlock in a roundabout way, but she’d never asked and he’d never volunteered the information. “I…I…” she paused to collect herself while their empty plates were swept away. “It’s none of my business.” She realized it now. “It’s got nothing to do with me, why would I report it to the police?”

His expression didn’t change, “Before you got home, I helped one of Sherlock’s associates kill a women that looked like her so she could flee the country.” The waiters dropped off a small salad of rocket, with walnuts and a lemon vinaigrette, and Molly found herself unable to reach for her salad fork. “How about now, Molly? Do you feel the need to run away?”

He also didn’t touch his salad, and they engaged in a staring contest. She croaked out, “How…”

He rolled his slim shoulders and said, “Oh, I didn’t do the dirty work, I never do the dirty work, but I found the mark and called the shots. Sebastian is usually the one who carries out the…messier jobs, but this one was done by an outside contractor that I paid.” He took a delicate bite of salad, not getting a drop of dressing on his shirt. Molly still didn’t touch hers.

“I…”. He’d never directly told her what kind of crime. He just had scars and phone calls and she thought maybe it was all digital crime, him being so good with computers and all, but this…This was different. “Did she…did….did she deserve it?” Like that was supposed to make a difference, get a _grip_ Molly Hooper.

He swayed his head side to side, “Hasn’t everyone done something at some point to deserve to be bludgeoned on the head until their skull crashes in? Present company excluded, of course.” He finished his plate. “Are you going to eat that?” He gestured to her untouched salad and she shook her head. He reached over and took it to his side of the table. “Pity, it’s delicious.”

He ate in silence, and Molly’s mind was whirring. How much of his work had come across her table? How many times had she inadvertently helped him by declaring something was NOT a murder? She suddenly saw him in a different light, and for the first time, she felt the beginning of fear curl it’s way into her belly.

And just as suddenly, it went away. Jim was dangerous, yes, and unhinged a bit, yes, but he didn’t just kill willy nilly. He’d had Sebastian, his weapon, simply reprimand a man for being rude, not shoot the entire line of people. He was running a business, however built on death it was, but wasn’t she? It was still a business, there were rules. They were almost a matched pair, he produced the puzzle of a body and she solved it.

“What sort of business is it, that you run?” She asked quietly as the waiters cleared the table.

He gave her a wide smile, full of teeth. “Consulting criminal. I have clients come to me with a problem, and I help them solve it. Everything from insurance fraud to government overthrows to countering the plots of secret societies. Really, when the law is brushed to the side, anything is possible.”

She observed quietly, “Just like Sherlock.”

He gave her a dangerously pleased look, “Just like Sherlock.”

This time, when their food came, she ate.

“I like you because you’re so transparent.” He spoke without provocation, as if commenting on the weather. He scraped some sauce onto his butter knife and spread it on his chicken. “You don’t have any hidden plots, no secret affiliations, not until me, and nothing much deeper than what you present on the surface. You’re so incredibly responsive during sex, but also so body conscious the moment it’s more than just me and you in a room. You can cut a man apart with machine-like precision, then go home and bake for my bodyguard, who has a higher body count than the average graveyard, a delicious birthday cake.” She had set down her cutlery and was staring at him. “I like you, Molly Hooper, because you’re different and you don’t even know it. Now that you do, I’m willing to bet you don’t care. You’re so incredibly sure of yourself but at the same time, almost completely lacking in confidence.” He finished his food and wiped his face. “You’re simple, but so complex, and I like spending time with you.”

She gave him a small smile. It wasn’t flowery or really all that complimentary, but it was honest. Jim saw who she was and liked her exactly like that. He didn’t expect her to change, didn’t expect her to mold herself around him. He just…liked her.

“I like spending time with you too,” she said softly, as the remains of the main course was swept away. She hesitantly put her hand on the table, palm up, and he glanced at it before reaching over to squeeze her hand gently with with his.

A lemon sorbet was brought out, with more champagne, and Molly suddenly raised her glass. Jim followed suit with a tilt to his head. “To spending time together,” she said softly, flicking her eyes up to gauge his reaction.

“To spending time together,” he responded just as softly, then they touched the rims of their flutes quietly. They kept eye contact as they each took a sip.

After sorbet, Sebastian materialized to pull back Molly’s chair and keep watch while Jim draped her in his blazer again. This time, when they walked past the waiting line, nobody said a word and Molly kept her head up high.

She paid attention to how quiet and smooth Sebastian’s gait was for a man of his size. If she didn’t know he was there, she never would have been able to guess she was being followed. She shivered slightly and Jim tucked her closer, thinking it was from the light snow that had started to fall. She looked back at Sebastian, who immediately noticed and flicked his eyes to her face, scanning her expression in less than a second before determining there was no threat and looking away. _Dangerous._

This time, when they sat in the car, they sat side by side. He didn’t try to pull her over or even hold her hand. He just alternated between staring straight ahead and giving her assessing looks. Molly leaned her head on the car window and watched the city slide by.

When they stopped the car, they were in an unfamiliar area. Molly, who had fallen into a tired trance, shook herself. “Where are we?” Her voice was pitched low and a little rough, as if she had just woken from a long slumber. Jim didn’t answer, didn’t move at all.

It was an industrial area, concrete slabs with rebar sticking out stacked up like pancakes. Machinery standing still like statues, set up for another day’s work in the morning. The tall steel skeletons of what would be office buildings stretched toward the sky like giants, reaching for the stars. Puddles of rainwater slashed across the mud road, reflecting the dim yellow streetlights and the light sprinkling of snow. Molly couldn’t see another person around, and Sebastian didn’t get out to open her door.

“Are you going to kill me?” She whispered, trying to keep the tremor of fear out of her voice. At least if she died, it would be in a beautiful dress. She’d had enough bodies come in from areas like this to know exactly how Sherlock would deduce her remains. Would Jim kill her, or Sebastian? What kind of trace would they leave? They could never leave the car, just kill her now, and drive away. Much more difficult to trace.

Jim turned to look at her, and for once, she didn’t see his eyes as deep and soulful, but instead as flat dead things sitting in his face. It was only a split second, but his expression was…bleak. Sad, lonely, and so very distant. Like he was expecting her to ask that question, and so pained that he was right.

An instant later, he gave her a smile and smoothed a mask of concern over his face. “Why would I do that, Molly Hooper?”

She licked her dry lips. “Because I know what you’ve done, kind of. I’ve seen your face. I’ve seen…more than your face.”

He did give her a very real wicked smirk, and he said, “I don’t think you’ll tell anyone about that.”

“Why not?” Was her quick reply, even though inside she was screaming at herself to stop pushing, to just sit down, shut up, and be quiet until they either drove her home or put a bullet in her brain. Molly shoved that part of herself down and sat up a little straighter. Be rational, she told herself, why would they do that _now_ instead of after the first time he'd confessed his real job to her?

Jim tilted his head. “Because you’re Molly Hooper.” He scooted a little closer. “Because you love Sherlock, but you _like_ me.” He touched her chin gently, and Molly saw something much deeper than she expected to in his gaze. His expression stuttered, just a little, and she saw an emotion she couldn’t name, and his voice got so very soft, “Because you’re contradictory, Molly Hooper, and that _interests_ me.” He leaned in and kissed her very softly. She got the sense that not many things interested him, especially not many people. And he was interested in her, not her skills, not her job, not her lab, not her morgue and the bodies stored in it.

He was interested in _her_ , not what she could do for him.

She leaned her head back and gave a quiet murmur under him, opening her mouth and letting him kiss her more deeply. He pulled her hair down from the French twist and twined his fingers through it. She tilted her head and pushed against him, biting a little on his bottom lip. He gave a small moan and pulled back entirely.

He looked out of the window, where it was snowing in earnest. “I was going to fuck you just beyond this construction site, there’s a small viewpoint that is just beautiful, but it’s gotten a little too terrible for that.” She smiled and he ran one hand down his leg absently, “Wouldn’t want to ruin my suit.” Molly raised an eyebrow at him, and he caught it. “Oh, yes, and you might not like being shagged in the middle of a snowstorm.”

She reached out and took his hand. “Not…not outside, at least.”

He looked over at her and gave a wicked grin, leaning in to kiss her again. She put one finger on his lips and took a breath to steady herself. “I…I want to…go to your place.” His eyebrow shot up, and she quickly amended, “If that’s okay, I mean, I know you might have to clean up something, not bodies, probably, but maybe the wash and…” he leaned in and kissed her soundly to stop her rambling.

“Not this time, love, I _do_ have some cleaning up to do, but soon. I promise.” She didn’t have to know that she was right about the bodies, he had parts from six different people in his custom walk in refrigerator right now, but he’d replace them with vegetables or something by next week so he could shag her on every available surface in his flat. “How about a hotel? Or your place?”

She hummed, “A hotel with a big bathtub would be nice, but it’s such late notice, we can just go back to my-“

“Already booked the City View room at The Shangri-La.” Sebastian piped up, tossing down his phone, putting the car into drive and smoothly pulling away from the construction site.

Molly gasped, “Oh JIM, that must be so expensive! I can’t-“

Jim roughly pulled her into his lap. “You wanted a big bathtub, this place is the best. I’ll fuck you in a bubble bath with the whole city watching.” He bit down her neck and pulled her hips to him, grinding up against her through the expensive dress.

They made it all the way to the hotel room without her orgasming, despite Jim’s very determined efforts. As soon as they got into the room, Jim threw her on the bed and pounced on her, her legs going around his waist, and he growled and yanked her underwear down, entering in one smooth movement that had her shouting and him biting her neck and-

Her phone buzzed.

Twice.

Not just any buzz, the special one she’d downloaded that did three short bursts per text.

Because of course it would be text.

Sherlock Holmes never called.

She froze, her eyes wide, staring at Jim, who was buried balls deep in her very wet pussy, and he slowly reached over. He pulled out her phone and handed it to her. As she looked at him, the phone clutched to her chest, he drew out and pushed back in, leaning into her.

“Answer it, Molly-mine. Text him back.”

He rotated his hips against her and she moaned softly. She set the phone in the space between her breasts, face down on her strip of pale perfect skin, and he said, “Ah ah ah, not playing fair. See what dear Sherlock wants.”

As soon as she opened the first message, he pulled out and _slammed_ back into her. She shouted and almost dropped the phone on her face. “Oh my GOD, Jim! I can’t, I can’t _concentrate_ with you-“

“Then try harder,” he grinned and suckled her neck, forcing her to wind her arms around him as she tried to see what the message said. She was panting heavily and he growled against her neck, “Tell me what it says.”

In a shaky voice that hitched in time to his rhythm, she read the first message out loud. “Come to-Oh JIM, oh GOD-come to Saint Bart’s at, at once.” He fucked her very hard for a moment, four strokes in as many seconds, and she wrapped her arms very hard around his neck and wailed into his ear.

He pulled back, still buried inside of her, his eyes a little manic, “Oh good, he’s probably gotten my little present. The one I told you about earlier.” He leaned down to shove one panel of her dress over to expose one breast, mouth immediately attaching to her nipple as she gripped his hair in a vice. He bit her nipple and she arched her back against him. He popped off and panted, “The next one, Molly-mine.”

He tried to fuck in time to her syllables, predicting what the brightest Holmes was telling her. “I-JIM-I would app-re-ci-ate your, you’re so fucking GOOD, Jim Mor-i-ar-ty, your assistsaaaaaance,” he buried himself in so deeply could feel her orgasm as it ripped through her, turning the ‘a’ into a long moan while he pumped into her furiously, biting her neck as he spilled himself inside of her.

As she came down, she panted, “Assistance in this matter. -SH”

She collapsed, dropping her phone onto the bed spread while he laid on top of her, breathing harshly through his nose.

He pulled out of her and she pouted for a minute before he ran his hand up her leg. “You have to go to work. Don’t worry, my own, I’ll be here when you get back.”

She rifled through the bags Sebastian had tossed into the room after them, coming up with a pair of her casual clothes he must have packed at some point.

She changed in the bathroom, the door open, Jim looking at her in the mirror from the bed. He watched his love bites disappear behind a black turtleneck, his cum still dripping down her thighs as she slid a dark pair of slacks up her legs.

She paused on her way out the door to lean down and kiss him ferociously, “You’ll be here when I get back?”

He waved lightly, “Just going to get in a little catnap. Text me when you’re on the way and I’ll get the bath ready.”

As she was half out the door, he called her. “Oh, Molly, what was it Sherlock said about your lips?”

She looked at him blankly, eyes immediately going to his kiss-swollen mouth. “I…don’t remember.”

He smiled sharply. “Good.”

She went to do the report for the false body of Irene Adler, and Jim lounged spread eagle on a bed waiting for her to return.

Happy Christmas indeed.

He still technically worked there, maybe he could show up to bend her over a slab and…he was already nodding off to sleep, caught up in delicious fantasies of her thighs against gleaming steel.

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt 1 from ribcage:
> 
> Jim’s reaction to Sherlock’s comments at the Christmas party is to lavish Molly with the best sex ever & essentially fuck all Sherlock’s awful words right from her pretty brain. (Molliarty could be already secretly together or not.)
> 
> I hope you enjoyed it. ;)


End file.
